


secrets overheard

by kinneyb



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:54:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22899091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: Jaskier tells Yennefer of all people (yeah, he's shocked, too) how he feels.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 15
Kudos: 365





	secrets overheard

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: queermight  
> tumblr: korrmin

Jaskier had known about his feelings for Geralt since, well, since the _beginning_.

Since the first time he’d laid eyes on him in that dark corner of a rundown tavern, Jaskier had _known_ he was something special. He had felt drawn to him, _literally_ , like he just _had_ to know his name and then --

and then he had learned he was a Witcher, the famous _Geralt_ of _Rivia_.

And the rest was history.

He’d started following Geralt around and he said it was for inspiration -- and it _was_ \-- but it was also because he just enjoyed being around the other man, even with all his rough edges and cruel words. Jaskier knew he didn’t _mean_ most of them, anyway, but then --

Geralt had pushed things too far on the mountain and Jaskier had felt like he had no other option, so he left.

He descended the mountain on his own, eyes burning with tears.

Jaskier had never been disillusioned -- he _knew_ Geralt would never feel the same way, but he had truly thought the Witcher cared for him as a friend, at least, but perhaps he had been blinded by his own desperate hope. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Jaskier was a hopeless romantic at heart, and always would be.

Reaching the bottom of the mountain, he sniffed once and squared his shoulders.

He would never let himself fall apart over a man or a woman or _anyone_.

So he went off on his own and continued to make a name for himself, singing fabricated stories of Geralt, traveling from town to town. Sometimes people would approach him with their skepticism and he would just grin and tell them to ask Geralt himself. He wondered if they really would, and he wondered what Geralt would say.

Eventually days turned to weeks turned to months.

Jaskier was starting to have a hard time remembering the small details about Geralt he adored and it was _torture_ , not being able to remember the exact quirk of his lips when Jaskier said something he actually found funny. Or the roughness of his hands when he had to grab Jaskier before he ran straight into danger.

He wondered if, one day, he wouldn’t even be able to remember his face.

Jaskier had finished early that night, gathering the coins at his feet and rushing out of the tavern. His eyes stung with tears. He hadn’t cried about -- or for -- Geralt in a couple weeks and he was hoping not to start again tonight. If he just got back to the inn and --

He saw her out of the corner of his eye and slowly stopped. No way.

“ _Yennefer?_ ” he asked in disbelief.

Sure enough the young woman was standing a few feet away. She looked as beautiful as ever. Jaskier wondered briefly what she was doing in such a small town. Stepping forward, she eyed him, “You seem to be doing... _well_.”

Jaskier bristled. “What?” he asked through clenched teeth. “Did you think I couldn’t take care of myself?”

Yennefer blinked, looking mildly surprised by his outburst. “I never said that.”

“But it’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?” he asked, turning away. “Goodnight, Yennefer.”

He realized what she was doing but it was too late; she grabbed him by his arm and pulled him through a portal with her. He stumbled a bit when he landed, glancing around at their surroundings. They were in a building of some sort, specifically the kitchen of it.

“Yennefer,” he said. “What the fuck?”

She held her head high. _“I_ should be the one asking that.”

Jaskier looked at her. “What do you mean?” He set his bag down carefully on the floor. “I was just living my life when you showed up and _literally_ zapped me away.” He sighed. “I thought you didn’t even _like_ me.”

Yennefer tilted her head. “Not really, no.”

“Great,” he said. “Then why the fuck am I here?”

She placed her hands on her hips. “Because I am about to _rip_ Geralt’s head off his shoulders if he doesn’t stop _sulking_.”

And that --

_that_ was unexpected.

Jaskier blinked. “What do you mean?”

Sighing, she walked over and sat in one of the chairs, crossing her legs. She nodded at the chair closest to Jaskier and he sat. “Ever since you two had that frankly _exhausting_ fight on the mountain, he has been fucking _insufferable_.”

Jaskier shouldn’t have been happy. It probably had nothing to do with him, anyway. “Are you sure this doesn’t have more to do with you turning him down?” he asked.

“I’ve offered,” she said simply. “To try again, and he turned me down.”

Jaskier was truly shocked, like _mouth hanging open, eyes wide_ shock. Because he’d been under the impression Yennefer was, like, the love of Geralt’s life. Yennefer rolled her eyes and stretched her leg out, kicking him, _hard_ , in the shin. He grimaced and rubbed it.

“Why did you let him push you away so easily?” she asked, almost accusatory. 

Jaskier almost laughed, “What, _I’m_ the one at fault here?” he asked. “He’s the one who implied his life would be _better off_ without me in it.” He shrugged. “Well, I gave him what he wanted.”

“Have you _met_ the oaf?” she asked, unimpressed. “He’s impulsive and dumb.”

He couldn’t rightfully disagree with that. “But -- “

Yennefer leaned forward, chin propped in her hand. She searched his face, an odd quirk to her lips. “You are _stubborn_ , Jaskier,” she said, spoken like a true fact. “Why was _that_ the breaking point for you? I’m well aware the Witcher has said crueler things.”

Jaskier opened his mouth, closed it. He couldn’t tell her _the truth_. Right?

But also... why was he still hiding it?

It was over. It was all _over_. He would never see Geralt again.

“It’s a long story,” he said finally. Because it _was_ \-- it had all started that day he met Geralt, alone and beautiful and the perfect muse for a young and struggling bard. “Actually interested in hearing it?”

Yennefer smiled, just the barest hint of teeth. “Go on.”

Jaskier started from the beginning, telling every part of their story from _his_ perspective, how he had felt drawn to Geralt the second he saw him, like they were _meant_ to be friends. _Or more,_ he added, unable to look at Yennefer. He stared at his hands as he told her the exact moment he realized he was in love with Geralt.

“It wasn’t a big moment,” he said, soft. “We were setting up in the woods, just a few months after we met. I fell, like the clumsy idiot I am, and Geralt rushed over to help me. He helped me sit down and checked my leg over because I said it was hurting. I told him it wasn’t broken or anything but he still wanted to check, just to be sure.” He smiled, biting the inside of his cheek. “He had this, like, look on his face. Like it would be the end of the world if I broke my leg. I just knew then that I loved him.”

Yennefer hummed, “He’s a man of actions, not words.”

Jaskier nodded. “Yeah.” His eyes stung with tears again and he reached up, wiping them. “But then he met you soon after and I _knew_ I would never have a chance. He was completely _infatuated_ with you, Yennefer, and I was so _jealous_. And for what? It wasn’t like we were together.”

“Infatuated,” she parroted thoughtfully. “Good word for it.”

He looked up. “What?”

Yennefer tilted her head again, dark curls falling in her face, sticking to her painted lips. “We were attracted to each other, Jaskier. I think we both _wanted_ it to be love. I mean, who’s better for a Witcher than a _sorceress_? Vice versa. We’d never have to worry about the other.”

Jaskier watched her. “I don’t understand.”

“He told me some interesting things, Jaskier, while he’s been staying here with me and -- “

Jaskier stood up suddenly, knocking his chair back. “What, he’s _here?_ Like, _right now?”_ He grabbed his bag from off the floor and ran to the door. “You could’ve _started_ with that,” he snarled, throwing the door open, “I would’ve _never_ stuck around this long if I’d -- “

He stopped, stunned, when he came face-to-face with Geralt.

His bag slowly slipped off his shoulder. Geralt caught it before the bag -- and his lute -- could hit the floor. They were both silent. Yennefer sighed heavily as she stood up, her heels clacking on the floor as she walked over. “Learn to use your fucking words, boys,” she said before she pushed her way out of the door.

Jaskier was vaguely aware of her footsteps fading until finally he could no longer hear them. He swallowed, hard, around the lump in his throat.

“Did you -- did you hear any of that?” he asked, dreading the answer.

Geralt grunted, “Most of it.” He extended his arms, still holding Jaskier’s bag.

He silently took his bag from him. “Well, um, I don’t know what you _thought_ you heard _,_ but -- “ Jaskier’s heart was beating fast. “I’m sure you misunderstood, you see, because I wasn’t talking about, like, _you_ or -- um, it was just something for a song and Yennefer was helping and -- “

Geralt smiled, an amused quirk of his lips, “ _Yen_ was helping you with a song?”

Jaskier opened his mouth, closed it. Yeah, bad lie. “I mean, no, not exactly, but -- “ He stopped, shoulders slumping. There was no point in trying so hard, not when their relationship was already ruined. “Actually, you know what, you heard me right and I’m not sorry for a word of it. Or for my feelings or -- “

“Good.”

Jaskier kept talking, “I don’t have to -- wait, _what?”_

Geralt was watching him, an odd look in his eyes. Jaskier had gotten used to reading Geralt and all his expressions but _that_ was a new one. He almost looked nervous, even a little shy. It was unfitting for a man like Geralt.

“I’ve been searching for you, Jaskier,” he said, not exactly an explanation. 

Jaskier blinked, once. “You... _were?_ ” he asked, genuinely surprised.

“When I couldn’t find you,” Geralt continued, “I asked Yen for help.”

Jaskier nodded slowly. “Um. But why?” he asked, still not understanding. “You said it yourself -- you wanted me out of your life. All I ever did was -- “ a lump formed in his throat, almost choking him “ -- make your life worse, right? So, I was just trying to give you what _you wanted_.” He smiled, forced and sad and his bottom lip trembled and he felt so dumb for already wanting to cry just after seeing Geralt’s face.

Gods, he’d missed him.

“I have a tendency to say things I don’t mean when I’m angry,” he replied slowly, “and it’s something I’ve been working on.”

Jaskier was still confused but he nodded, anyway. “Um. Okay.”

“Because saying what I did on that mountain will always be one of my biggest regrets.” Geralt stepped forward and Jaskier felt like he couldn’t breathe at how close they were; the tips of their shoes touching. “I was a mess after you left, Jaskier, and I only got worse when I searched and couldn’t find you. Yen had to pull me out of it.”

Jaskier nodded dumbly. “I -- I don’t understand,” he whispered. "I thought -- “

Geralt reached out, slow, hesitating for a second, gauging Jaskier’s reaction, before he cupped his face. He gently thumbed his cheek, eyes flickering down to Jaskier’s mouth. “Yen was the first person I told,” he said, cryptic as ever.

“Told _what?_ ” he prompted impatiently, needing to _know_.

Because surely he was misunderstanding, right?

“That I had feelings for you,” he answered, and Jaskier suddenly felt like he couldn’t stand on his own, his legs turning to jelly. Geralt caught him before he fell and slowly led them over to the table. He helped Jaskier sit before he sat himself. 

Jaskier blinked a few times. “When? I mean, _how?”_

“I was just as surprised as you,” he admitted, almost sheepish. “You left, and it was like... I couldn’t _breathe_. I immediately went after you but you were already gone when I reached the bottom of the mountain, Jaskier.”

Jaskier knew that feeling all too well. “And you... searched for me?”

“I did,” he confirmed. “But you can be hard to find when you want to be, bard.”

Jaskier smiled briefly. “I didn’t want you to find me,” he said. “I -- I couldn’t take being hurt again, Geralt. I thought it’d be better for both of us if I just... stayed away. I thought -- “ The tears were back, wetting his cheeks. “I thought I’d never see you again and I thought that was what you _wanted_.”

Geralt reached back out, taking his hands, “It isn’t. I swear.”

“Fuck,” Jaskier sniffed, shaking his head. “I don’t know what to think.” He had never considered _this_ as a possibility. He was happy and overwhelmed and scared. “If you think there is even a chance you might be wrong, please just... _go_. I don’t know what I’d do if -- if I had _this_ and then it was taken away from me.”

Geralt squeezed his hands. “I _want_ this,” he said. “I know that now.”

Jaskier finally did what he’d always wanted to do: he lurched forward and slammed their lips together. As real a test as any. Geralt kissed back, and he almost sobbed with relief. They kissed, and _kissed_ , and Jaskier was just about to crawl into Geralt’s lap when --

“Gods,” Yennefer said from the door. “I’ve been blinded.”

Jaskier pulled back, lips red and swollen. He smiled, bright as the sun. “I’m not sorry.”

**Author's Note:**

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> 
> https://korrmin.tumblr.com/writing


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